


Officer Michaels' Bad Night

by whatdoyouthinkmyjobis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, One Shot, Original Character(s), POV Original Character, POV Outsider, Police
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 12:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4829489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis/pseuds/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is it like to be the Winchester's arresting officer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Officer Michaels' Bad Night

**Author's Note:**

> Set between seasons 2 and 3.

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_ Officer Michaels was not looking forward to explaining to his sergeant how two suspects handcuffed in two different interrogation rooms had managed to escape the station.

He’d noticed weird movement in the cemetery when he’d driven by on routine patrol, so he had parked his squad car and sneaked up on two large men digging up a grave. Grave robbing was not usually part of the weekly staff briefing; it seemed so victorian gothic in an age of mobile meth labs and YouTubed gang beatings.

Though there were two of them and they were much larger than his five foot eight self, they got on their knees and put their hands up as they were ordered. He handcuffed them, and searched their pockets. Change, breath mints, a few folding knives, a lockpick kit, a couple handkerchiefs (who carried those anymore?), ticket stubs from a Three Stooges festival, lighters but no cigarettes, matchbooks, condoms. No wallets. No ids. No cell phones.

Though they’d been easy to subdue, they refused to play ball with his questions. In fact, they didn’t even speak to each other. They just stared at him like he was boring them. A little annoyed, Officer Michaels shoved the model and the sasquatch in the back of his car and drove to the station where he’d put them in the separate interrogation rooms while he typed up his report.

He’d hoped they were just thrill-seekers and not whack jobs who got off on dead bodies. Per routine, he ran their prints thinking maybe it would return some trespassing, b&e, or even a couple arsons. He was not prepared for the results. The tall one was Sam Winchester, his record sprinkled with grave desecration, breaking and entering, impersonating an officer, a string of thefts, and a bank robbery in Wisconsin. He’d escaped police custody in Baltimore and prison in Iowa. The pretty boy was Sam’s brother Dean Winchester, same rap sheet but with a gruesome murder in St. Louis. They were wanted by the FBI. He was going to get a medal for bringing these two in. 

Before Officer Michaels could bask in the glory of his upcoming accolades, the lights went out and the sprinklers kicked in. Handcuffed suspects taking advantage of the situation bolted for the door. The cops were a tangle of wet bodies trying to keep everyone in place, keep the fist-throwing, hobbled-running, curse-screaming chaos under control. It was ten minutes and six black eyes before the power was restored. Wires had been tampered with in one of the interrogation rooms. Officer Michaels’ stomach lurched when he realized that was the room Dean had been in.

Officer Janowski was unconscious outside of the interrogation rooms. Dean was gone. Sam was gone. Worse still, the evidence room had been raided, evidence taken pertaining to half a dozen bizarre suicides going back several years. Then he remembered both the coroner and an officer working the evidence room discussing two strange young men with fake credentials wanting information on those cases. They’d escaped before they could be questioned.

“What the hell is going on here?” shouted his sargent. It sounded like more of a command than a question. It sounded like a demotion. _Fuck_.


End file.
